Amelia
by rye0639
Summary: Not Amelia Bones, but Amelia Smith, a member of the Hufflpuff during the 1940s. She knows not of her role in the wizarding world, for it is more important than she thought. Besides her story, you will see how powerful families including the Diggorys, Bones, and, of course, Tom Riddle are connected. The wizarding world is JKR's property. Forever grateful of her wonderful creatoin.


You're overridden by unnecessary compassion, Alastor once told me. He was never supportive of my career, though I disagree. I considered myself rather experienced at being compassionate, pretty much an expert at it; so I _am_ capable at distinguishing between _necessary_ and _unnecessary,_ thank you very much.

Yet I never revealed my true immodest nature to him, nor did I remind him that I have worked at St Mungo's for over six long decades. He wouldn't listen anyway, a stone would pay more attention to my protest against this unfair judgement than Alastor. No; he was filled with bitterness, I dare say, seizing every opportunity to point out my misdoing. Our relationship was not the best mother-and-son relationship, as you could tell. This, in his opinion, was probably my fault, too. But right now, I didn't give a damn of what he might say about the thing I was going to do. I'd rather not let his criticism stop me.

The thought of ' _screw him_ ' actually made me feel better, thank Merlin.

A greeting card lay before me, as well as a brown leather face notebook, a scroll of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink. It would appear that I was about to write something, but with the quill undipped in ink, the parchment unwritten, the notebook unopened, and the card sent to me from someone else, such event was very unlikely to happen. At least not right now. To be frank, it was my fault. I wasn't ready; trains of thoughts were waiting, patiently, silently, and if I just took a moment to untangle them, BANG! There you go, a piece of writing. That would take time and effort, however, for planning, remembering, writing-so the easiest way was to just stand up and leave all these behind. Just leave them there; let them enjoy the success of something-is-about-to-happen.

The thought of able to be rid of these gave me comfort, so I remained there, savouring the peace of not doing anything when everything was ready. This lasted ten minutes, and I finally reached the resolution and picked up the quill. Faces flashed before my eyes, their owners long gone. None of them decided to become a ghost, not even one! Just left me here, all by myself, punished by the ill fortune of growing old alone; anyone who hear this would comfort me, then forget about this as soon as they turn away. Some might even think me wretched, or greedy as a darn goblin, for, quoting, _this woman has had more an enough time in this world, and still complaining_! Sweet Helga of Hufflepuff, save me from the supercilious looks they'd cast my way. I've had quite enough of those this life.

I imagined, when my readers turn the final page, whoever they are, are either filled with joy or sentiment. Not confusion, for I feared I would not be around to answer their questions. Writing demands great courage, and no one—not one single person, can promise what might happen during the process! Then again, I wouldn't mind it if this story just goes unnoticed, for the ones I'd love to share it with were already members of the ghostly faces.

The tip of the quill touched the parchment. Time would drive the ink through the paper, turning a black dot into a black hole. I studied the parchment, almost searching for something to stop me. I lifted the quill, contemplating how I was going to present my life through words, phrases, punctuations, and on papers. It wasn't impossible, nor easy. All I could do was pray there is actually a higher form, who would guide me through this out of mercy or pity. I looked up once more, and saw the old photo taken so many years ago, faded as time flew. People waved at me happily, cheering silently as I smiled and gave it one last glance.

Now I must start writing.


End file.
